As a short pants boy in Chicago, I was honored to be my grandmother’s companion at Mass on Sunday at 6:30 in the morning. I was never tired at that early hour because I loved the church with its smell of sandalwood and a bright array of feathered hats sported by old Irish ladies in the brightly polished pews. The Jesus horror story was arrayed on the walls in 14 carved plaques but that was not too scary either. The antiphonal songs were soothing and the incantation of Kyries were somehow hypnotic. It was one of my favorite things.
On one particular Sunday the Priest built a sermon around the idea of Grace. He said that a person who was righteous had the grace of God within him.
I thought about this at our regular stop at Nick The Greeks where post- devotional ice cream was served while neighbors chatted about the news of the day and the fates of relatives and friends in the “old country.” Later, at Grandma’s house I was left alone in what she pretentiously called the sitting room. On the low coffee table Grandma had a small heavily decorated dish with a collection of pretties that were important to her. There was a shell. a scapular depicting St Michael, a ring and a small blue stone. At my age this little piece of polished stone seemed precious and beautiful. Could this be grace? Well, I knew how to find out. I cranked up a little spit and popped the stone into my mouth. Soon, I would know if I had grace within me.
Now, decades later the idea of grace is not so simple or so easily tested. Like every important thing in life, Grace defies description. Because it is so ephemeral, many ascribe it to whatever god they believe in; you can not simply swallow it like a medication, it came from some numinous source and you either had it or you didn’t. I have catalogued the instances of grace in my life in an effort to detect some pattern or causality…to finally capture it in my mind and not just in my stomach.
We see instances of grace in sports. A beautiful backhand, a circus catch or a triple axel is certainly a type of grace but the idea is not merely a function of proprioception. It is more important than that. Grace can also be seen in the light touch some use when dealing with others, with their own pain and in the simple elegance in the world’s people, places and things.
In 92128, our current exposure to the idea has to do with growing old gracefully. We all go to the gym, on hikes and some of us run, swim and cycle to hold fast to the grace of our bodies as time grinds us down. We test our memory by long bouts of sudoku and crossword puzzles that force us to remember the names of flowers and obscure operas. We travel and aggrandize new experiences; we even have a scratch-off map that allows you to highlight all the countries you have seen.
With all of this activity, there is still a strong voice that tells me that I have grace…and have had it since I gobbled down that blue stone. I know too, that grace is not under my control. It comes as it pleases from a place I cannot know.
As I watch the GANG OF EIGHT I can certainly see the grace in them. My favorite take on the subject comes from Victor Hugo, ” When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age.”
Let us all get there with as much goodwill and elegance as we can.
Olio Folio 